Whatever it takes
by ferggirl99
Summary: Oliver gets himself a bit more involved in protecting Felicity. Or: Three times he responds to false alarms at her apartment, and one time it's real. A bit of shameless fun, a bit of Felicity whump, protective!Oliver, and observant!Diggle. Romance if you squint. Will be 3-4 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This was unexpected. I'm wrapping up a story I'm quite fond of for another TV show (Revolution) and had absolutely promised myself not to write anything else. And then I caught up on Arrow. Felicity Smoak is easily one of my favorite characters on television right now, and the side of Oliver she brings out is SO MUCH FUN to watch. I hope it's fun to read! I recommend some Imagine Dragons to set the mood (I might have Bleeding Out on repeat right now).

**A/N 2:** I do not own this. It's not mine. I'm just playing with them and then I'll put them back mostly unharmed. This is all un-beta'd. Any mistakes are my own. (It's done - I'll post the 3-4 chapters this week.)

**A/N 3:** The events of this story take place over a long period, starting just after she starts working with them officially.

* * *

_**Whatever it takes**_

* * *

Oliver only feels a mild push of guilt as he lies to Felicity's security company.

"Right, like I said, my girlfriend's out of town for a few months, and she wanted me to keep an eye on her place. So I need any security breach alerts on her apartment sent to me."

The clerk on the other end of the phone argues, but Oliver is ready. He's lifted her last bill to get the account number, and he'd had her give him the security codes the day she installed the system. The clerk capitulates.

"We can put it on a 10 minute delay – that way any accidental alerts that are immediately corrected don't flood your phone."

Oliver closes his eyes, imagining the damage that could be done by the dark archer in ten minutes.

"No, I want to be alerted immediately."

"But if she sets it off with the wrong code-"

"She's out of town, remember?" Oliver forces himself to be pleasant. Another few keystrokes and it's done. He'll set up a mirror on his phone to send to Diggle if he doesn't open the text within the first 2 minutes; in case he is otherwise occupied when the alert comes in.

As he hangs up the phone, Felicity herself clatters down the stairs of the cave.

"So, not to be unfeeling toward the cause or anything," she begins talking before she reaches the bottom step. "But this has been an absurdly long day and I missed lunch and I'm pretty sure it's about half past dinner time…"

His mouth curves up as she deposits her purse on the desk and waits for him to vacate her chair. He lounges for a beat, just to see her glare impatiently, before lifting himself out of the seat and heading back to put the phone away.

"Was there a question in there, Ms. Smoak?" he teases, always enjoying her bluster.

"A question?" She drops into the chair and gives it a tentative spin, probably checking to make sure he hadn't adjusted her settings. "Not a question. A demand. Well, a question. Does the bat cave get takeout?"

Her look is so hopeful that Oliver decides to play dumb a little longer. He reaches into the drawer below his arrow supplies and pulls out a granola bar which he carefully lobs her direction. She squeals, grabs for it, and manages to knock it halfway back across the room.

"Oliver! Don't throw things at girls with glasses!" she scolds. She retrieves it from the floor and then grimaces, reading the ingredients off the back. "Oat bran? Carob chips? No. No way. You keep your weird health food to yourself, mister. I just want a cheeseburger."

The door opens once more, and Diggle's heavy footsteps sound on the staircase. Oliver grins when he sees the takeout bags in his partner's hands.

"Well it's a good thing I asked Dig to stop off on his way back," he says. "Although the granola bar would be better for you."

It's easy to dodge the snack when she throws it at his head, although the force and accuracy leaves him staring thoughtfully after her for a few seconds.

* * *

The first time the alarm activation alert comes through to his phone, it takes Oliver seven minutes to reach her. He tries to call her, but it goes straight to voicemail. That doesn't calm him down.

He's off his motorcycle and up the stairs to her place so fast that all the doorman sees is a blur. He doesn't see any signs of forced entry, but he still puts his ear to the door, listening for evidence of trouble.

What he hears is Felicity. And she is annoyed.

"Yes, I already explained this to your employee. I didn't enter the code wrong. Your pad's wiring is inconsistent. It recorded a touch on the 8 as a 7. This is a real problem for your security model…"

Sagging with relief, Oliver hammers on the door.

"…uh, hang on please, there's someone at the door." He can hear her walking through the apartment and gives his best innocent face when she peers out. "Oliver?"

The door opens, and she blinks at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop by and see if you needed a ride." His lies haven't really gotten any better, he thinks.

She just gapes at him, so he pushes gently past her, needing to finish the job and make sure no criminal masterminds have a gun to her head from another room.

"Right, well, come on in," she calls after him, putting the phone back up to her ear. "And furthermore, the assemblage you used on your boxes is way too prone to cracking. I really don't see why I should continue paying you."

When he's content, he rejoins her in the kitchen, taking in the bags of groceries still sitting on the counter and the open tub of ice cream with a spoon stuck into it.

She's off the phone, and staring at him.

"So, a ride?" he says, grinning at her obvious frustration. "Who was that on the phone?"

* * *

**A/N:** Just something for fun. We all know how Felicity LOVES it when Oliver tries to bluff his way by her. There's lots of great Oliver/Felicity stuff on here, but I didn't think you guys would mind one more entry. :) Let me know what you think! I'll update again tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** So glad so many people liked this! Thanks to** sadmadam, AnAverageGirl15, quisinart4, jimi18, Dianitachiva, Lil5weetie, CamJ, sunshine319, LucyMcVerden, Crysie1979, AnimatedMousie,** and two lovely guests for reviewing, and for all the favorites and follows. :) Ready for a few more false alarms? We like to keep Oliver on his toes.

* * *

**Whatever it takes**

* * *

The second time the alarm goes off it's the middle of the night. Oliver's out for a late dinner and drinks with McKenna. He knows his face tightens when he checks his phone, because when he looks back up there's understanding in her eyes.

"You look like you have somewhere else you need to be," she says softly.

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. Their relationship is one of constant interruptions. But he has to make sure Felicity is safe.

"I'm sorry, unfortunate hours of a club owner," he lies too easily, flagging down the bartender to cash out his tab.

He puts her in a cab and then heads back to the car he'd brought out. Five minutes since the alert, but he is close by, and reaches her apartment building before another five have passed. He shoots a smile at the doorman, who shakes his head and mutters something grumpy about "kids these days."

Once he's through the lobby, he takes the stairs three at a time. The moment he exits the stairwell, he sees her. She's got her head pillowed on her arm, wearing that gold dress that gave him so much grief the night the Dodger put a bomb collar around her neck. She's got a flimsy plastic tiara decorated with the words "birthday girl" in her hand. And she's fast asleep.

He gives her a quick once over – for injuries, which he doesn't find – and double checks that her pulse is steady and her breathing is strong. Then he catches the liquor on her breath and shakes his head with a smile.

"Passed out on your own front step," he says with a sad smile. "Oh, I've been there." But he'd always had someone close at hand to maneuver him to bed. Oliver can't help but wonder who she's been out with, who has failed to see her safely inside. He and Dig might do a little homework tomorrow.

He scoops her into his arms and disarms the beeping box so that the door swings wide. He leaves her dressed – he can't quite bring himself to strip her down when she's not awake to yell at him for it – but takes off her heels and tucks her in. The note that says "Happy Birthday" under a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on her nightstand is a particularly nice touch, he thinks.

With only the smallest twinge of conscience, he digs into her evening bag and pulls out her phone. The passcode prompt illuminates his face; he considers a few options before typing in today's date. It dings happily and he shakes his head at the sleeping girl.

"Your birthday as a password? Felicity…"

He finds himself (in her contact list properly alphabetized as "Queen, Oliver") and places a call of about 30 seconds. Then, he checks that all the windows are locked, resets the security and gets comfortable on her couch.

He opens his eyes to the sound of her stumbling out of her room in the morning.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" She's more than a little confused to find him there and stands in the doorway, twisting her towel into knots, unable to stop talking. "So much for calling in sick today. Why is my billionaire boss sleeping on my couch? You weren't even invited to my birthday party! I mean, you would have been, but I knew you had plans. Not because I'm a stalker, but because you mentioned it a few days ago, so it wasn't worth asking, and… oh god, I don't feel well."

He claims she drunk dialed him and offers to grab breakfast while she showers. She knows she didn't – she says "I was sloshed but I wasn't drunk-dial-Oliver-Queen sloppy" – but there's an outgoing call on her phone to back him up. She's too hungover to argue the point. He gives her the day off.

* * *

The third time, she catches him.

It's a Saturday. He was a mile away this time, and is at her building in less than three minutes. She's still at her door, cursing under her breath as she cleans up the remnants of what Oliver takes to be a shattered six-pack. She looks up as he steps out of the stairwell.

"Oh, please, yes, do come by and watch me make an ass of myself," she mutters when he catches her eye.

"Are you ok? What happened?" he peers around her into the apartment, and makes a move to step around her, but her hand grabs his ankle and he freezes.

"Oliver Queen, what the hell are you doing here?" She tugs, and his foot finds the ground again, back outside her apartment door. He crouches down, helping to pick up glass shards and trying to come up with something plausible.

"I should probably add that if you lie to me again I will move to Coast City and write a tell-all book about vigilantes."

His eyes meet hers, and he sees anger, confusion, and something softer that makes him look away. He dumps his bits of glass into the paper bag she is using to collect the broken pieces.

"I, uh," he breathes out and stands, offering her a hand to get to her feet. It doesn't even them out, but he would rather she not be handling sharp objects when he tells her the truth. Her empty hands go to her hips, and she eyes him impatiently.

"You screwed up your security code," he says finally.

"Yeah, cause the grocery bag broke and the beer - wait, how would you-" she starts, before realization dawns. "Dammit, Oliver! What are you, my mother? Because I have one of those, and she's very Jewish and a little annoying."

"No, I'm just the reason you're in danger at all."

"Oh come on," she sighs, giving him a sharp look. "I don't merit a good break-in or assault all on my own? I do own an awful lot of high-tech equipment, I was doing work for Walter, and as a woman, I'd like to think that-"

"Felicity." He cuts her off, not wanting to hear her list the reasons outside of her involvement with the Hood that someone would attack her. He's already thought of them all.

"But that's not the point, is it?" She crosses her arms. "To get the security company to text you, you would have to have my account number, my social security number, my passwords…"

Oliver winces as she lays bare the immensity of his violation of her privacy.

"You're my responsibility now," he says, but even to him, it sounds paternalistic and overbearing. He's searching for better words when she speaks.

"You really are an idiot." She sounds tired, and he watches her push her glasses up her nose with a heavy weight in his stomach. Next she will tell him to leave her alone, to stop screwing up her life.

"You could have just asked me." Her smile is quick, nervous, and a little rueful. But it melts his tension right away. "I don't exactly mind having you guys look out for me, I'd just like to be in on it. You know, actually part of the team."

He steps toward her, then, reaching a hand out to cup her shoulder. They both cringe when glass crunches under his foot, but he doesn't let go. This time he meets her gaze head on.

"Deal. I'm sorry," he says, and means it.

* * *

The fourth time, he calls her. She answers on the third ring.

"Ok, you told me not to run over every time I got an alert," he snaps, pacing in the underground lair where most of their work is done. "Why did your alarm just go off at 2 am?"

"Wha? Oliver? Why are you…?"

He can tell he woke her from a dead sleep, and his heart speeds up. If she's inside, where she's supposed to be, what caused the alarm to trip?

"Felicity, wake up." He's already grabbing his bow and heading for his bike. "Do you hear anything? See anything? I need you to very carefully look around."

He puts his helmet on and switches to the handsfree Bluetooth speaker it houses.

"What is this, some kind of sick training exercise?" she mumbles, but he can hear her getting out of bed. "Whoa, that's one hell of a draft, did I leave a window-"

Then she screams over the sound of an explosion, and the call goes dead.

* * *

**A/N: **EEEEP. I'm SORRY! Even I hate that cliff hanger. But I didn't want to leave you with no action. (I mean, as I was putting this up, I got another kind Guest review! You guys are the best.)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N 1:** Oh, I haven't let myself do an honest to goodness cliffhanger in so long! I forgot how much ANGST it causes in the reviews. You're all wonderful: **Suzy87, Absentia, AnAverageGirl15, ArielleArcher, Native Princess, AuthoressCrest, sosure, quisinart4, Manic Penguin, sadmadam, Flygurl011, Madj, Dianitachiva, BunnyGoBoom, jimi18, AnimatedMousie, Crysie1979, shineyma, Kpyork, Lil5weetie, SleepDeprived07, readernurse, Caroline, MacRieve Girl, chestal, bluebell-uk and my three guests. **

**A/N 2: **Now can I have some cookies? Oh, you want story first? FIIINE.

* * *

The next 60 seconds rank as some of the worst of his life. And Oliver Queen has survived some really horrific minutes in the last five years.

He calls her back, but there's no answer, just a quick cut to her voicemail: "Hi, you've reached Felicity Smoak! I'm either ignoring you, or I genuinely can't answer my phone. I'm probably not ignoring you, though. Unless you're George from accounting. Please stop calling me, George. Uh, right, leave a message. Just not you, George."

He's already on the road, a cold March rain obscuring his visibility. Over the thudding of his own heartbeat, he calculates that it will take him nine minutes to reach her, at least. He calls Diggle and barks out her address and the situation, and then tries her again. This time the phone rings.

She answers in a static-filled whisper. "It's working. Oh thank god."

"Are you ok, Felicity?" he asks, desperately relieved to hear her voice. "Are you hurt?"

"I – I don't know, I don't think so," she sounds dazed and a little angry. "Just hit my head when my apartment… exploded."

"Do you see anyone? Are you in danger?" He runs three red lights, daring the cops to pick a fight with him tonight.

"I lost my glasses and there's smoke everywhere. My, my living room is on fire." She breaks off, coughing. "I can't see. Oliver. What do I do?" Her voice is rough and scared. He needs to get her away from the smoke now, before it puts her down.

"Can you get out onto your fire escape?" There's a serviceable one outside her bedroom window that he's used before as the Hood. The easy access is a mixed blessing, he knows. On one hand, she won't have to brave the flames to try for her front door. On the other, any smart crook will just be waiting at the bottom for her to fall into their arms.

"Yeah, I think, yeah." He can hear the sound of broken glass, and growls that she should be careful as he swings a left at 80 mph.

"Felicity, I need you to go UP. Do you hear me? You go up to the roof. Find a place to hide and I'll be there in 5 minutes."

"O-ok," she stammers. "Hurry."

She hangs up then, presumably to have two hands to climb the wet metal stairs. He floors it.

* * *

He doesn't find her for another 20 minutes. The attackers realized that she has escaped up instead of down and are searching the roof for her when he arrives. They're smart, armed, and prepared for him, and it takes Oliver far longer than he wants to eliminate all four of them.

"Felicity?" he yells, checking that the last thug was well and truly unconscious. He'll have Diggle press this bastard for information when he gets here. "Felicity, it's ok now. Where are you?"

When she doesn't answer, his adrenaline roars. What if a bullet ricocheted, or there is a fifth man he didn't see? He forces himself to be methodical, checking any possible hiding place for his diminutive IT girl, and repeating to himself that _she's fine, she's ok, she's smart, she's ok_.

He's moving past a cluster of exhaust pipes when a small sniffle draws his attention.

"Felicity!"

"He-here," she croaks, and then he's on his knees, reaching into the awkward space to draw her clear. She's freezing, still in her sleepwear of a t-shirt and shorts, and soaked through. There's some blood on her face and a large scrape down her left arm, he notes. She's also clutching a heavy duffel bag.

Diggle explodes onto the roof, gun at the ready. Oliver reacts instinctively, covering her with his body and aiming an arrow at his partner's head. It takes a beat for them to be certain of the other's identity, and then they both lower their weapons. Oliver motions him to the pile of dead and unconscious attackers before swinging the shivering blonde up into his arms.

"D-don't for-forget my c-computers," she manages to make her smoke-roughened voice heard above her teeth chattering. Sirens are wailing in the distance – the fire department is coming. He shares a look with Diggle through the rain; they are both aware of the complications that will arise from anyone looking too closely into Felicity.

He hefts the bag onto one shoulder, surprised at the weight of it. "You carried this up six stories on a wet fire escape?"

"All the stuff that l-links me to y-you," she mumbles.

"And here I thought I was the superhero," he says, trying to get a smile out of her. Instead, her eyes flutter shut and her head leans weakly against his shoulder.

He's worried that she's slipping into hypothermia, because she's stopped shivering but isn't looking any better. He moves quickly, going to the opposite side of the building from her apartment and descending that fire escape as quietly as possible with the extra weight of her. His motorcycle is waiting at the bottom. Belatedly, he realizes he should have brought a car so she could be warmer. He could take Dig's – but no, Dig has to clear the scene of the bad guys, to keep the Hood's involvement a secret. He'll need more space.

Oliver puts her bag down gently and then seats her on the bike. She barely reacts, and he hurries to slip off his infamous green hooded jacket and wrap her up in it. He pulls the hood up over her wet hair to protect her from the weather, and her face disappears into its depths. The rain stings his cheeks, and he knows his mask is washing away. Time to go.

Her computers on one shoulder, he climbs on the bike behind her and slips on his helmet. He moves her limp arms up around his neck.

"You have to hang on to me, Felicity," he says, his voice thick with worry.

She mumbles something inaudible, but her arms tighten slightly. It's enough for now, and he's off, heading back the way he came, in the only safe direction he knows: the club.

* * *

The ride is interminable, the seconds ticking by as slowly as hours, and he does the entire last mile with one hand, as she's gone limp and he needs his other arm to keep her on the motorcycle.

He slows as he nears Verdant, circling around back to avoid any wayward customers or paparazzi hoping to catch a glimpse of the troubled Queen children. The rain has stopped, finally, but there is still a stiff breeze. In his wet t-shirt, it leaves him with goosebumps, and his heart clenches when he considers her pale legs, exposed for the entire ride.

Diggle, hopefully, will be close behind him. Still, Oliver knows he needs to act immediately to warm Felicity up.

He hears the pulsing music as he punches in this week's code on the keypad that leads downstairs. A few hours ago, he'd spent some time on the floor, being seen doing club-owner things. He won't be going back tonight.

Once he's inside the door, he shifts her in his arms, cradling her against his chest as he hurries down the stairs. There's a cot pushed up against the wall, but it's meant for him, and only has a sheet and one blanket. He lays her down and dashes to his locker. Suits, extra hoods, he tosses things to the side in frustration until he comes up with a long sleeve thermal shirt and his one pair of sweatpants.

When he rejoins her, she's shivering again. Oliver knows it's a good sign, that she's starting to warm up, but he still hates to see her like this. He pulls off the leather hooded jacket he'd leant her, and then pauses for a moment before peeling off her wet clothing.

"I'm sorry," he whispers as he rubs her with a towel, making sure she's dry before he slides the shirt over her head. He's determined not to be distracted by all the pale, cold skin exposed by his care, but he still feels his heart pounding just a bit faster. When she's swaddled in his sweats, looking like a lost child wearing adult hand-me-downs, he moves the towel to her hair, squeezing as much water out of it as he can.

She mumbles something, the first time she's spoken since the rooftop. It's slurred and nonsensical, and his mind snaps back to the phonecall right after the explosion.

_Just hit my head when my apartment… exploded_.

He takes her head in his hands, feeling gently for injury. Sure enough, she's got a tender lump the size of a golf ball under her hair behind her right ear. It's not bleeding, so a concussion is his main worry.

Diggle comes in looking grim.

"It was meant to be a kidnap mission," he reports shortly.

"Why?" Oliver asks, tucking the meager blanket around her more tightly.

"I didn't get much from the guy, but it sounded like whoever hired them wanted to flush you out, on his turf."

Oliver's mind races. How could they know about her involvement with the Hood? Or was it Oliver Queen they were flushing out? Was he putting her in danger regardless?

Diggle walks over to the cot and lays a hand on her cheek. "She's freezing, Oliver."

"She was colder before."

"Her body's not producing enough heat to warm itself," Diggle says.

Oliver runs a hand through his own wet hair. "And I think she has a concussion. So what do you suggest?" But he already knows what the next step is.

"Body heat." Diggle sighs, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Flip you for it?"

"No, you follow the leads we've got. Make sure the police don't find the connection between her and these thugs, or us." Oliver pulls off his damp shirt and towels himself dry. "I'll hold her."

* * *

**A/N:** Well, Oliver hadn't been shirtless yet, and we all know THAT is unacceptable and not in character. ;) I hope this was sufficient payment for the awful cliffhanger of yesterday. Tell me what you thought!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N 1:** Well, this is it! I've had so much fun with this little story, and I'm really glad you've enjoyed it! Thank you so very much to all of my wonderful reviewers: **quisinart4, AnAverageGirl15, CamJ, BetsyStrothgard, Username Unknown, Suzy87, chestal, BunnyGoBoom, jimi18, Elle92, MusingM, AuthoressCrest, CintiaQuerino, SharkGurl, Ica013, ArielleArcher, rediney, sadmadam, Kit, InkPaperDoll488, niagaraweasel, SleepDeprived07, MacRieve Girl, Lil5weetie, Teekanne2210, NightSign, Lily M.85, HighOnLife, bjq, AnimatedMousie, bluebell-uk and six wonderful guests!**

**A/N 2:** Right, so where were we? Ooohhh, Body Heat. That got you all quite worked up, I must say. :)

* * *

Felicity wakes suddenly, her body tense and prepared to fight. Oliver had been dozing, the blanket wrapped around the two of them, with her curled against his bare chest. She flails, and his arms tighten instinctively, not wanting her to fall off his lap and hurt herself. He would happily kill each of the thugs again if it would take away the fear in her eyes.

"What the-" her words are still slurred, but not as badly as before. " 'liver, that you?"

Diggle is up and beside them, checking her pupils and her pulse. Oliver waits for him to finish before brushing her wildly curling hair off her face. She's relaxed into his hold, clearly recognizing that she's safe, but the confusion remains in her eyes.

"Hey there, how you feeling?" He lets his mouth curve up into a gentle smile.

She blushes, hard, and looks around. The sudden movement makes her wince, and she puts a hand to her head.

"I… wow. I feel like…" her eyes widen comically as she notices the shirt she's wearing. She slowly looks down, pulling the fabric away so she can check underneath it. "I'm not wearing a bra!" she squeaks. "Why?"

Diggle looks at Oliver, who's a little pink in the cheeks himself at the moment.

"I don't think you had time to, uh, change when your apartment was firebombed," he says after a moment.

"Oh my god." Her face drains of color and Oliver's hold tightens in case she does something normal, like faint. Felicity Smoak is not, of course, normal. "Someone firebombed my apartment. Did I get the computers? I always keep a bag by my bed so that if I need to run I can toss in the computers and tablets, cause they could trace me to you and that would be seriously bad on a number of levels…"

Oliver laughs and puts a finger on her lips to stop the flood of words. His eyes meet Diggle's, and they share a relieved smile. If she could still ramble and make sense, the concussion couldn't be too bad.

"Yes, you dragged your computers up to the roof in the rain," he says, removing his finger when her face starts to get red. "Then you passed out on me, due to some combination of cold and hitting your head."

"Which happened because someone firebombed my apartment." She looks up at him. "Do you know who? Why? And is there a reason I'm on your lap?"

"Specifically, four thugs who are no longer with us. More broadly, they were hired by someone to kidnap you." She shivers and he tugs her back down to lean on his chest. He can feel the tension in her body, and knows that she's not sure how she should respond to their position. But right now, he wants her close. "And, body heat. You had started in on hypothermia. I needed to get you warm."

He can feel her about to pull away and straighten up. "Stay put, Smoak. You're not released until Dr. Diggle pronounces you warm enough."

Dig shoots him a look at that pronouncement, which Oliver answers with a hopeful smile over the top of Felicity's head.

His partner rolls his eyes and nods. "Might as well get some sleep, Felicity, you've got a few degrees to go yet." Something pings on his computer screen, and he jumps up. "I need something from the car."

As his footsteps fade up the stairs, Oliver feels Felicity's lips move against his chest. He has to strain to make out what she's saying.

"Guess I'm glad you're my emergency contact."

He smiles sadly, wishing he had stayed wrong about needing to be first to know of any break-ins at her place. "Well, don't make it a habit. Who's going to handle the bad guys while you have me pinned here?"

She's relaxing into him, and glancing down he can see her eyes fluttering shut. Good, she needs some sleep. But she manages to get the last word, of course.

"If this was just some ploy so we could cuddle, boss, you could have spared my apartment and just asked."

* * *

When Diggle comes back Oliver shushes him. She's a warm, soft weight as she naps on his chest. They pull out their phones and put them on silent.

_DIG: You are aware that her body temperature is plenty high now?_

_OQ: I don't want her waking up alone._

_DIG: Uh huh. Sure._

_OQ: What are we going to do about her apartment?_

_DIG: Salvage, investigate…_

_OQ: She has to move._

_DIG: Oh?_

_OQ: I need her safe._

_DIG: Yeah, WE do._

_OQ: … you know what I mean._

_DIG: Oh yes. Do you?_

Oliver ignores the last text and rolls the chair over to where Dig has pulled up some real estate pages. They spend a few minutes scrolling through options, but each one has far too many security concerns: a low floor, or no doorman, or keyed entry, or electronic entry… After the tenth shake of his head, Diggle picks up his phone again.

_DIG: What are you going to do, take her home with you?_

Oliver glares at him. But he can't deny that he wants to keep her close. People at Queen Consolidated know that she did work specifically for him at times, so offering a room after an apartment fire... _Queen family opens home to employee. _ The headlines would be interesting. But would they refocus attention on him or her?

_OQ: Got a better idea?_

Dig rolls his eyes and turns back to the computer.

At some point, Oliver knows they'll need to get Felicity a logical alibi to give the police for why she wasn't home. They'll need her on board with whatever increased security they can provide. They'll need her skills to double and triple check that no link has been officially created between her and the Hood investigation. They'll need to find out who it is who has targeted her so that Oliver can convince them by whatever means necessary that she is off limits.

But right now – he uses the cover of the blanket to settle her more comfortably against him – right now he can't shake the feeling that she is just where she belongs. And he'll do whatever it takes to keep her there.

* * *

**A/N:** AWWWWWWWWWW. Thanks again, I hope this was a fun ride for all of you. I'm probably going to do a few "outtakes" of this story from Felicity's perspective... I have a few scenes in mind. Let me know if you have a preference! :)


	5. Epilogue

**A/N:** And I was so proud of myself, for writing a story and being done with it... but so many of you (especially: **InkPaperDoll488, FlyGurl011, Absentia, CintiaQuerino, epicallycosmic, MusingM, AnAverageGirl15, **and** quisinart4**) suggested this that you got me thinking, and once I was thinking, it was so easy to come up with all of the ways I could spin this out. Outtakes are still coming, because FUN, but consider this a teaser for a (possible!) sequel.

* * *

_**EPILOGUE**_

* * *

"I told you to send more men." Helena Bertinelli lounges on the edge of a desk that could easily sleep two. "She's still clearly the best target."

She's surrounded by suits, men with lots of money and big plans. One or two were associates of her father's who've assured her that they never supported his killing her fiancé. She'll probably kill them anyway, eventually. But right now she's talking to the man on the other side of the desk. Power emanates from him, even in his relaxed stance. If anyone can help her elude Oliver Queen and find her bastard of a father, it will be this man. He just has to believe her.

"Better than his family? Than his best friend?" His skepticism is sharp and Helena hears a few muffled snorts from the peanut gallery behind her. She fights through the red mist of rage and promises herself that she will pay back those who laugh at her – on her own time.

"I almost ripped Tommy Merlyn's arm off, and all he did was bargain with me." She's had a lot of time to think about this, to stew over Oliver's complete betrayal and pinpoint why, exactly, he'd decided to kill her. Her voice is steady now, but hurt and anger seethe below the surface. "When I visited his family, I got warned off, but it didn't prompt anything more extreme. But one little chat with this computer girl and he's got an arrow with my name on it."

The four men in the room are silent. They know that he has arrows with their names, too.

"Leverage," she says softly, invitingly. "He has a lot of soft spots, but she's the softest. She's not a part of his circle, doesn't have the resources or connections to have around the clock protection. But he jumped higher for her than for any of the others." She regrets, now, not taking her time and playing a bit more with the blonde. If Oliver was going to come after her anyway, it would have been fun to leave her replacement – as the girl who knows his secret – a little less than whole.

"All right, Miss Bertinelli," he says finally. "We have a deal. You bring us the girl, and we'll find your father."

She smiles and shakes his hand, but she knows he's holding out on her. People do, now. They think she's a loose cannon, a little touched in the head. She walks out of the room, giving them all time to appreciate the view.

He has no idea how right he is, she thinks with a vicious smile.


End file.
